


bro help

by batlaclava



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 23:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batlaclava/pseuds/batlaclava





	bro help

George hated this. 

Well, not all of it. He liked reviewing music, it was his job. He loved hearing it, writing about it, discovering every genre and little thing he could about music. The history of each instrument, each voice, each composer and writer. His college had blessed him with a huge internship to write for a big company. To review for huge artists to local bands. 

George preferred the huge artists aspect of it. 

He hated this bar. The smell of old whiskey and clustered drunks around him. He tried not to touch the barstools, who knew who or what had touched those things. By the look of all the people around him, it could be anything. 

The air stunk of cigarette smoke and sweat. The heat of the bar combined with the mid-June temperatures didn’t help this situation at all. George rubbed at his eyes, glaring up at the stage across the room. A busted pair of black drums with flames sat on the wooden platform, some of the stands taped together. George cringed. How the hell are those things holding together? 

A microphone sat dead center, the wire on it taped at the base where the cord net the mic. George hoped it wouldn’t cause any problems. This whole place was so busted. George wondered why his boss has sent him to this junkyard. He was better than this, he was meant to review people who played in decent settings with people who showered around him. Any place but this busted and non-air conditioned bar. 

George blinked up as someone made their way up onto the stage, his eyes squinting to make out the figure. The man was tall, dressed in a button up neat jeans. Even his shoes seemed decent. His hair was short, cut on the sides with the center of his hair being dyed a dark green. George sighed, stepping forward and navigating his way through the people around him. One of them almost made contact with George, who shuddered at the thought of touching anyone here. 

George made it to the stage, tapping on it and getting up on his tippy toes to see better. 

“Excuse me!” He called to the green haired man, tilting his jaw up. The man turned at his call, tapping the device in his ear before standing up and looking down at George, a nervous smile on his face. “Uh, hi? Can I help you?” George thought he had a nice and kind smile. Too kind to be working in a dump like this. 

“Yeah, actually. I’m here to review for a band. They were supposed to be on about 15 minutes ago. I don’t mean to be rude, but can I leave or not?” George said, trying not to sound like a dick despite being so fed up with this place. 

As suspected, the man gave him a kind smile and narrowed his brows back. “Ah, I’m sorry for the wait! They’ll be on any minute. Can I get you anything to make you feel more comfortable? A drink maybe?” He offered. George shook his head. “No thanks. Maybe somewhere away from the crowd where I can have a space to write, if you can do that?”

The man nodded, stepping forward and slipping off the side of the stage. “Sure thing. Follow me.” He instructed, stepping around George and heading towards a table in the front of the stage that didn’t seem to have anyone at it. Not exactly what George had in mind, but ok. 

“Do you need a pen or anything? Paper maybe?” The man asked, turning back to him and he stepped around the table. George shook his head, setting down his notebook on the table. The man nodded, smiling nervously. 

“They’ll be excited to hear about a music reviewer. That’s big for a small band like them.” George propped his elbow up, resting his chin in his hand. “Yeah. I don’t usually do...local events.” The man across from him pulled out the across from George and laughed, sitting down. “I get it. You do big league stuff, yeah? Not used to the lower ranks?” 

George cringed, sighing. “No, sorry. I sounded like a total wanker there. It’s just not what I thought what it would all be. Big company takes me in, I expect to be writing about big bands and artists.” George turned, looking at the flame designs on the drums. He quite liked the shitty paint job on them. “I guess it wouldn’t be the best without having unexpected experiences, right?” 

The man huffed a laugh. “Yeah. You’re cool. I don’t think anyone should have to be in this place longer than a minute.” He turned, glaring at the people around him. “It smells.”

George gestured with his hand. “Right?” He exclaimed. The man across from him laughed. He leaned back, looking at George kindly. “I’m Sam. I manage the band coming up next.” 

George nodded, returning the smile. “George. They must be good if they have a guy like you.” He said, trying to be polite. Sam turned bashfully, facing the stage again. “Those idiots don’t listen to me. Never have and never will.” 

George frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said. Sam waved him off. “Naw. They’re cool. They don’t listen to people who try to control them. That’s what makes them so good.” He smiles softly, a warm expression washing over him. George watched him, studying the freckles on his face for a moment. 

Sam’s head tilted up and his smile turned. It reappeared quickly, becoming a smirk. “Oh boy. Here we go.” He laughed. George raised a brow, giving sam a quizzical look. Sam turned and caught George’s look. Sam nodded his head towards the stage, an amused look on his face. 

Stepping up on the stage were three guys. One had a madly colorful guitar wrapped around his back, having no care for whether not it hit something. Strings at the top were bouncing as he walked, making metronome bounces. It made George nervous. The guitarist had a funny looking sweater on, a colorful one like his guitar with a swirl set in the middle. If George knew any better, he would think it was rainbow. George wouldn’t know. The boy had a messy head of hair, bouncing as he moved. Man, this dude bounced a lot as he walked. 

Next to him was a guy a bit shorter. His hair stuck out from a beanie, a swish of hair poking out right on his forehead. His skin was olive toned, dotted with sun spots that scattered across him. He had on a tacky and basic dark blue button up. The font pocket had a dumb design of a yellow duck on it. It amused George in someway. 

Finally, on the other side of the colorful boy was a stocky man. His hair was neck length and jet black. It folded over a white headband, defeating the entire purpose of the thing being there. He had a white tee with a flame on it that was tight against his build. He wore chains around his neck, his pants, and ears. George made out a piercing on his brow and two under his lip. His ears had a few studs and chains on them. George blinked. That’s gotta be the drummer. 

George studied them. Drummer, guitarist, vocalist. George mentally backtracked. Where’s the bassist? He leaned up, looking at the backstage door and waited for a fourth member. He waited, but nobody came out of the door. George looked back at Sam, getting somewhat worried. Sam appeared to be worried too. He looked at George before standing up, waving his hand at him. “Excuse me for just a second.” 

George watched him go and clamber up the stage and past the beanie guy, who was hooking up his keyboard on the side of the stage. Sam leaned in front of the drummer, a conversation starting between them. Sam seemed worried, already worked up about being behind on starting the show. The drummer seemingly rolled his eyes and shrugged, mouthing something to Sam. The taller man stood up straight, rubbing his face with his hands. George grew more worried than annoyed. Sam didn’t deserve to be stressed like this. He seemed like a cool guy who just got stuck with some shitty and immature band. 

George jumped when he heard the bar doors open, a loud clank of metal. Some others turned at the noise. As George turned, someone ran past him with long strides. A string of curses followed the man that passed him. A guitar case was in his arms, making it hard to move too quickly. He nearly dropped it at one point. People watched as he clambered up the stage and tripped over a cord. He caught himself, but the embarrassment was there already. Sam grabbed the man and gave him a stern look, starting to lecture him. The other man nodded shamefully as he pried open his case, dropping it carelessly and bulling out a busted looking bass. He kicked the case to the side, rushing up to the front mic and turning in circles to find the amp cord for his bass. 

George stared. 

This guy is an idiot. 

George got a better look at him as he plugged his bass in, the feedback ringing and making everyone cringe. He was tall and had a bit of facial hair just on his chin. His hair was a bit longer and wavy, curly even. Blonde too. George noticed his piercings too, one on his brow and some in his ears. A chain hung from a primary piercing up to his helix. He had a simple tee on that had some other band logo on his. His jeans were ripped, a chain hanging from his pants. George noticed a stupid necklace that had a white circle and a crudely drawn smile on it. George thought it was dumb. 

He leaned into the mic, tapping it for a second. He leaned in and said a single syllable before a painful feedback sounded, making everyone react negatively again. George felt so much second hand embarrassment. The man smiled, fixing his strap. “S-sorry about that...and the long wait. Thank you for being patient and giving us the opportunity to play tonight. It means a lot. Tonight’s a special little event that we didn’t have planned but it’s ok, nothing is ever pla-“

The drummer behind him stood up out of his seat, shouting loudly and raspy. “WE ARE DREAMSCAPE!! ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR!” 

The bar exploded in sound suddenly. George wasn’t prepared. He flinched actually. His first thought was rock then transferred to shoegaze too maybe. Christ, these guys were loud. The drummer was insane, smashing on his drums like they weren’t being held together by tape. The keyboard guy had picked up a guitar that George hadn’t noticed, playing along with the swirled sweater boy. The frontman leaned into the mic, a confident smirk on his face suddenly. He parted his lips, a shiny set of teeth showing. 

“Let me make your stasis  
My, my, my, my serpentine!  
I’ve got a breathalyzer   
And a badass dream!”

His voice was raspy but so fitting for the loudness and brash feeling that they had given so far. The lead singer leaned back, turning to his drummer. The two of them exchanged a quick talk through shouts that George couldn’t quite hear. The drummer smirked and stuck out his tongue as he drummed roughly. The lead singer laughed, turning to beanie guy and shaking his head at him, his hair swishing. Beanie guy smiled and bent his knees, playing his guitar roughly. He finally turned to his other guitarist, stepping up to him and stomping to the beat as he moved his hands wildly along the neck of his bass. The guitarist laughed and shook his head at the frontman, his hair swishing similarly to him. He shook back. George thought it was a weird exchange. 

He made his way back to the mic, shouting a few “yeah”s before the song ended. George stared for a moment before clicking his pen, making a few notes. The man breathed a laugh into the mic, out of breath. “Hi again.” He said. “I’m Dream,” Dumb name “That’s Quackity on keys and guitar,” Dumber name “that’s Sapnap on the drums,” Dumbest name “and that’s Jacobs on guitar.” ...Normal name. 

“We hope that was good.” The frontman pointed behind him to his drummer. “This asshole started without any of us being prepared.” He smirked into the mic. The drummer, Sapnap, behind him stuck up his drum stick. “You were talking and no one cared!” He called. George smiled. Dumb name, funny attitude. 

The frontman frowned. “You don’t mean that...” he pouted. The drummer shrugged. “I do. There were no askers.” He smirked. The frontman turned back to his mic, looking over the crowd. “Ignore him. He’s literally from Texas.” 

The crowd giggled, even more so when the beanie guy barked out “Get his ass!” 

George recognized that this band had good chemistry. They were funny and interactive with the crowd. That was good, most of the time. George still couldn’t shake the frustrated feeling of being in this place and the band starting so late. Also a strong start for a first song, sometimes good. George kept his eyes up on the frontman, studying the way his chest rose and fall. George noticed a bracelet on his wrist, a small woven green and white one. His nails were also pained black, some of the paint scuffed and chipped off. He had good hands for the bass. Large hands and long fingers to reach every chord and note. 

“That song doesn’t have a name, by the way. We always open with it though. Hope you liked it.” The frontman said, hand gliding down the neck of his bass. “Hope you’re all having a great night, by the way. I hope our music makes it even a little bit better.” He turned to his drummer, mouthing something. Sapnap nodded, twirling a stick in his hand. The beanie guy set his guitar down, placing his hands over the keyboard. 

“This next song is more relaxed I think. It’s called Pleaser.” 

A quiet strum played from the guitar. Slow and steady as the frontman began to sing. George relaxed. This was nicer. 

“You’re talkin’ while you’re fast asleep  
as I walk slowly from your house   
Back in your room remain the words I wanna say to you  
but couldn’t leave my mouth.”

The drums and bass entered, providing an exciting energy. 

“Does it come a surprise?”

Guitar strums in a single rhythm 

“Language of averted eyes.”

The drums shook the floor

“Science is what I do best.”

The drums and guitar steadied for a moment as the frontman sang, “still I hear it all wasting time around my head, so I talk to myself instead.” 

After this line, all four of the men leaned into their microphones and sang the chorus. It was a good mix of tones and strums, giving an authenticity to it all. George listened carefully to every note. He hated that he kinda liked it. 

The second verse was sang by the keys player, his voice softer and being able to reach higher. He was a bit more nasally but it suited this song and the vibe of the band overall. It worked in their favor. 

The song progressed, reaching a bridge where the frontman sang “oh”s for a small moment before every instrument entered in, bringing the song to its climax. The frontman leaned in, closing his eyes. 

“I’m talkin’ while you’re next to me  
Did I ruin the moment?  
If I could tell you how I feel   
would you know what the words meant?”

He leaned in closer, his lips touching the metal of the mic.

“For sake of conversation  
could you read the writings on my sleeve?  
Cause that’s the best you’re gonna hear   
So maybe I better leave”

A few more notes and the song ended, the small crowd cheering and clapping. God, George really liked that song. Dream leaned back up to the mic, running a hand back through his hair and panting. “Thank you, thank you. I like that one a lot.” He smiled. 

“It’s hard, ya know? Being in a band. You never know if you’re gonna get big or not. That’s ok though, I prefer these small places with people like this. I prefer the people who just feel the music, the ones who don’t care what genre we are. Music is music, right? All forms should be appreciated in the end.” He looked around, eyes scanning over the crowd as small whistles and agreements appeared. 

“Thanks again for having us. Very cool of you guys. How about another loud song?” He smiled. Cheers rose up from the crowd, whistles and woos. Dream laughed, turning his hand on his bass. He turned back to his drummer again, nodding. The drummer gave a thumbs up, spreading his arms apart as he prepared to beat down on his drums again. 

“This one’s for anyone who is a whore! You rock!” 

The guitar came in strong. An immediately addicting tune. The drums followed suit, slamming down in a steady beat as every member started to go hard on their instrument. 

The frontman smiled wildly at the music they played. George could tell this one was his favorite by the way he smiled sort of bashfully but pridefully. He leaned back into the mic, standing up straight and hitting the stand a bit with his hips. He cocked his brow, stomping on the stand to steady it just in time to sing. He licked his lips, gliding over his canine. 

“I want your ugly, I want your disease  
I want your everything as long as it’s free  
I want your love...”

“I want your love!” The drummer shouted into the mic, bouncing on his drums. 

“Love, love, love, I want your love” They all sang in turns, ending with the frontman. 

“I want your drama, the touch of your hand  
I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand  
I want your love  
Love, love, love, I want your love”

He leaned in closer, eyes fluttering down to the mic and he held his bass to his chest. 

“You know that I want you-“

His eyes fluttered up

“And you know that I need you-“

His eyes scanned the crowd

“I want it bad-“

George thought he might look at him

“A bad romance!”

The drummer threw a stick in the air, catching it just in time to bang down on his drums. 

The chorus appeared strongly, the frontman’s smirk growing wild as his bandmates sang it with him. 

“I want your love and I want your revenge!  
You and me could could write a bad romance!”

The drummer and the guitarist looked at each other, a knowing grin on their faces as they sang. The key player grinned too as he sang. George sensed something coming up. He didn’t trust these bastards. 

“I want your love and all your lover’s revenge   
You and me could write a bad romance!”

Dream grabbed the mic tightly, his eyes slamming shut and his brows furrowing back. The note he let out was breathtaking. George had never heard anyone do that. Someone in such an unknown band hit a note so fucking perfectly and perfectly high for his tone. It was insane. George got chills. His body shook and his eyes widened, his mouth parting as he stared at this guy. Who the hell is this guy?

“Caught in a bad romance!”

The frontman’s eyes peeked open, a somewhat pressured look on his face with his contorted brows. His green gaze landed on George as he let out the note again, followed by the previous lyrics. George couldn’t breathe. There was no smirk, no confidence on his face. He was simply out of breath and clearly worried about that note. George didn’t know why. It was fucking perfect and breathtaking. 

Then the blonde turned away and returned to his confident mask, continuing with the song and a smirk. The moment was over for Dream, but the goosebumps remained. 

The chorus sparked again. That note sparked again, and Dream’s eyes landed on George again. George held a stoic gaze. He knows why I’m here. He’s trying to impress me. He’s trying too hard. Why is it working?

The bridge started, everyone but Dream singing the first few lines. Dream’s eyes stayed locked on George’s has he spoke the lyrics in another language. George assumed French. 

“I don’t wanna be friends...”

George clicked his pen nervously. 

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

Dream slid his hand down the mic stand. 

“No, I don’t wanna be friends.”

George exhaled, keeping his eyes locked with the lead singer. 

“Want your bad romance!”

Dream smirked, his eyes crinkling. He leaned in and wrapped his necklace around the mic, connecting him and the stand. 

“Want your bad romance!” 

He grabbed the mic again, kicking it forward. The mic stand hung below Dream, being held by his necklace as his hands focused on his bass. His eyes didn’t focus on the mic or the bass, still on George. 

Look somewhere else.

“I want your love and I want your revenge”

Dream laughed a bit through his singing 

“You and me could write a bad romance!”

He winked at George. 

Fucker. 

“I want your love and all your lover’s revenge  
You and me could write a bad romance!”

Dream basically kissed the microphone as belted that note again, still giving George chills. This bastard knew what he was doing. Dream panted as his bandmates said the few final notes, his hands slipping weakly from the neck of his bass. 

Dumbass. Should have held back on the strong notes.

George was proven wrong when Dream stood up again quickly. It gave George a head rush just from seeing it. Dream grabbed the mic, eyes locking with George again. He smiled this time. Not a smirk, a smile. 

“Want your bad romance!”

One last hit on the drums from Sapnap. 

The crowd around them whistled and cheered. The other bandmates smiled and wiped the sweat from their foreheads, steadying their instruments as well. 

Dream stood panting, hands hanging down from his bass. His lips were parted, hot breaths coming from him. George stayed in a staring contest with him. George held a stoic face, searching Dream’s gaze for something. The frontman’s huffed once more after a few more moments of...whatever that was, before he turned and wiped his face. 

He didn’t look at George for the rest of the show.


End file.
